


Same Time

by Diary



Category: A Single Man (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Ambiguity, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Gay Character, Gen, George Falconer Survives, Introspection, Male Friendship, POV George Falconer, POV Male Character, POV Queer Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once everyone else is gone, Kenny will walk over and politely inquire, “Will I see you next lesson, sir?” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Time

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own A Single Man.
> 
> Author's Notes: In the book, Lois Yagamuchi was Japanese-American and spent time in an internment camp as a small child.

After class, Lois will always give Kenny a look and hand him a pen before trotting off with both their bags in tow.

George has never truly been able to decide if the look is one of irritated compliance or exasperated indulgence.

Kenny will sit in his seat and play with the pen or lounge against one of the walls until the last person has exited.

Sometimes, George tries to imagine what would happen if another student decided to stay behind to talk to him or if he simply left with the rest of the students before Lois could finish gathering the bags and ensuring Kenny had the pen.

Once everyone else is gone, Kenny will walk over and politely inquire, “Will I see you next lesson, sir?”

George always answers, “Yes, Kenny. Have a good weekend.”

Here, however, he follows it with, “Kenny, a moment, please.”

Kenny stops short, turns back, and looks at him with piercingly clear eyes. “Sir?”

He sighs.

Something does need to be done, he knows.

“I was wondering if you and I could talk,” he says. “About the night we went swimming.”

There’s a flicker to Kenny’s whole face, but it’s maddeningly brief. “I’m free whenever you are, sir.”

“Perhaps, you should find Lois, first,” he suggests.

“Lois isn’t worried about me, sir. Her grandma’s going to pick her up, and she’ll keep my stuff until I show up.” Giving a slight shrug, he adds, “Besides, she’d probably rather I talk to you about you than her.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Sometimes, Mister Potter, I can’t decide if I should be reassured by your unfailing honesty or terrified.”

“I suppose it depends on if you think your slanted perception of me can be trusted. Not everyone is exactly as they appear, sir, no matter how closely others look.”

“Where would you feel comfortable meeting?”

…

For all she loves what’s in the bottle, Charlotte truly does love the colour of tangerine gin.

George can understand; his first attraction to Scotch was the way the amber glistened far more warmly than any beer he’d ever come across.

Taking a small sip, he notices Kenny is playing with the wrapper around his beer rather than actually drinking any of it.

“The friend I told you about, the architect I shared my house with- he wasn’t merely a friend, and the house was ours in a way that went past who originally bought it,” he says, and he's relieved at how quiet and matter-of-fact it sounds to his own ears. “Do you understand?”

Kenny nods. “Yes, sir. When Lois was ten, she had tonsillitis, and her grandmother started having chest pains. Grandma Mitsuye is very healthy, sir. She always has been. But she was so afraid of what might- it made her body react badly. I didn’t even remember you saying anything about him, but Lois did. Apparently, last semester, you said something about your roommate, and Lois never said anything. Until you had your heart attack. Then, she wondered what happened with him.”

He supposes he should be grateful Kenny is so kind-hearted and Lois is- something.

For all he knows, she’s simply bidding her time to strike.

“I’d say I don’t care,” Kenny continues, “but that’s not exactly true, sir. We both know I’m not much of a writer. He’s important to you, and you’re in more pain than I thought. I’m curious, and I’m sorry for you losing him. But otherwise, I don’t care.”

Sensing more important words are soon to follow, George remains silent.

“Grandma Mitsuye, she has all these quotes and arguments about it and civil rights and God’s love. I guess I’ve just never really understood romantic love and relationships.”

“Oh?”

Nodding, Kenny takes a small sip. “I can understand sex, sir. To most people, it feels good, and if you trust some you shouldn’t- well, I broke my arm, leg, and ankle one summer. Sprung my wrist, too. So, I guess I’m not too afraid of pain. Letting someone see all these different parts of you, though, the parts you don’t even share with your family and friends, the parts of you that you don’t even like yourself, letting them know all these secrets that could hurt you, and never really being completely sure that they’re the doing the same, and even if they are, you have a responsibility to treasure and protect them and all these parts-”

Kenny takes a breath. “I want all of that, someday. But it’s scary as hell, and it doesn’t matter what the two people are, I just don’t really understand how people manage to do such things.”

Smiling, George nods. “Most people go through that, Kenny. Even those so sure of themselves, such as you. I can’t promise you won’t find yourself heartbroken or that you won’t break someone’s heart, but I can promise that, someday, if you want it, you will find someone you can experience these things with. You won’t be ready, and they may not be, either. However, there have been numerous relationships that have thrived and survived regardless of whether either participant is ready.”

“What makes a relationship thrive and survive, sir?”

Despite the padding, he can acutely feel the press of the booth against him when he leans back. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask. Love is often easy, Kenny. Be it parents, friends, or other relatives, even when dealing with them is a chore and hurts, many people still instinctively find themselves loving. Now, relationships on the other hand- I was extremely lucky Jim and I found one another when we did. Sixteen years. Almost two decades.”

Sighing, he rubs his temples. “We had a few big fights, but on the whole, it was easy and comfortable. Yet, don’t misunderstand my words. There was work involved. Relationships must be built carefully. They involve compromise and putting in some sort of effort every single day. Or at least, that’s my experience.”

The look on Kenny’s face is achingly beautiful.

“Kenny, I asked to talk to you because I know you’re worried.”

“Yes,” is Kenny’s simple response.

“You needn’t be.”

The answering expression is a mixture of harshness he’s never seen on Kenny before.

However, to his surprise, Kenny’s tone is rather neutral. “Sir, I’ve known Lois for almost five years, and she’s done everything from writing pro-Communist essays to things I can’t tell you about, but uh, the point is, I suppose if she were planning the same thing you were and didn’t want to deal with me trying to stop her, I’d never know about it until it was done.”

“Kenny-”

“But then, with Lois, I’ve always known she’s always going to care more about her principles and making statements than any person, except maybe her grandmother. I just hope you know, sir, that if you leave like that, you’ll hurt people. I’m not trying to- I’m not trying to make you feel worse.”

“I know,” he assures Kenny. “And thank you. Your friendship was what I needed that night.” At Kenny’s brightening face, he quickly continues, “Nevertheless, you shouldn’t feel such responsibility towards me. Please, believe me when I say that I’m much better now, Kenny.”

“I’m glad, sir. If you ever want or need a friend, though, I’d be happy to talk to you. I meant what I said about feeling like I can talk to you, and I hope you feel the same about me.”

He nods.

“So, his name was Jim?”

Taking a drink, George clears his throat. “Yes. Actually, this place is where he and I first met. It was…”

…

After class, Lois hands Kenny a pen, grabs their bags, and gives George a brief look as she leaves.

“Lois thinks I’m in love with you,” Kenny blurts out. Before George can figure out how to respond, he continues, “She really needs a good grade, sir. If she happens to threaten you or make inappropriate comments-”

Kenny simply stops, and George is curious if Kenny is wondering what might constitute inappropriate (he’d certainly love to know what the boy who offered drugs to a professor hours before standing naked in front of said professor deems such) or if Kenny simply realises there is little, if no, way to finish the sentence.

“As long as she keeps turning in thoroughly analytical papers, Lois has nothing to worry about. After all, I was young and attending university, once. If my friend had spent a significant amount of time with a professor and I thought she might have deeper feelings for him, I’d be concerned, too.”

Moreover, when Charley had slept with a mathematics professor, George had punched him.

Luckily enough, Charley’s threat of ringing the man’s wife had stopped any form of retaliation.

George will never tell this story to Kenny due to the fact he knows Lois will hear about it, and he knows Lois is excellent at wielding her heels as a weapon. He’s personally seen her flip a brute of a man twice her size over simply by angling her foot so the bottom of her heel touched his ankle, and according to Kenny, she once kicked her shoe off into the air and successfully popped a balloon.

He’ll be the first to agree he’s treading down a dangerous path, and Lois would've been well within her rights to have confronted him weeks ago.

This doesn’t mean he’s a big enough man to give her any ideas or encouragement on doing so.

…

After it’s been established Kenny should definitely encourage his cousin June’s love of poetry but should perhaps postpone introducing her to Rimbaud until she’s older, a lull appears.

George sighs. “We’ve discussed this, Kenny. You needn’t be afraid of my reaction to whatever you have to say.”

For all his bluntness, Kenny has always been careful about what he did and didn’t say, and there are still plenty of things George doesn’t and probably never will know. However, the difference between the Kenny before the gun (twenty years old and sound asleep with a deadly weapon pressed against his chest, George’s blasé attitude towards potential damnation has been replaced with a certainty nothing can save him) and after is: Now, Kenny’s sometimes reticence seems as if he’s doing so in order to protect George rather than himself.

“Your parents, sir- do, did, they know?”

He manages to repress the sigh. “As far as I know, my mother never did. She, uh, she seemed to be under the impression that Charley, my friend, Charlotte, was the one who got away. My father and I maintain civility by each pretending he doesn’t.”

“Sir?”

Finishing his drink, he decides against ordering another. “In England, being a gentleman is very important, Kenny, and being a gentleman relies on maintaining a strict code of conduct. He knows Charlotte was always more invested in our dalliances than I was, and he knew Jim wasn’t merely a roommate. He knew certain things I did when I was a teenager that I highly doubt he ever told my mother. And while he’s never openly condemned me, he has made it clear that my voicing these things he’s well aware of would make it impossible for him to accept me.”

Perhaps, he expects a response about fairness (even though, despite all his causal acceptance, Kenny also lives in the same repressive world George does), or perhaps, he expects pity and sympathy.

What he gets is a thoughtful nod. “The reason Lois and I aren’t together is because we just didn’t work, you know?”

Since George supposes he does, he nods.

“But I imagine it would have been hard if we did. My mother likes Lois okay, as long as Lois is just a friend.” Making a face, Kenny confides, “I think she really wants me to marry some blonde girl.”

“You’re not partial to blondes,” he teases.

Kenny shrugs, and then, suddenly, his eyes are fixed on George’s hair.

It’s brief, but it yet again reminds George why he really oughtn’t do such things where Kenny is concerned.

“I’m not partial to marrying someone just so that my mom’s grandchildren have a higher chance of having a certain hair colour,” Kenny answers. “I know my parents love each other, sir, but sometimes, I wonder if they would have ever gotten together if my dad didn’t have blond hair.”

“What about your father?”

Kenny shrugs. “Dad’s great. He likes Lois.”

“Many parents were raised to be parents, Kenny,” he offers. “For all some of them plan to do things differently, they still end with a child who endures copious amounts of shit due to them.”

Scoffing slightly, Kenny leans back. “Still, I’m sorry about your father. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” George says before he can register even debating whether he should or shouldn’t. “My father’s an academic, Kenny, just as my grandfather was. I rather think he’d hoped for someone who would break the mould.”

There’s a look on Kenny’s face he can’t quite place. “Well, sir, I’ve always thought you were a great professor. You proved you were more than that when you gave that speech about invisibility.”

“Not that again,” George says.

He’s suddenly weary.

“You and Lois both utilise social invisibility,” Kenny says. He doesn’t give George much of a chance to process his shock before continuing, “But you’re better at it than she is. Her being a quiet kid didn’t save her from being put in those camps, did it?”

Remembering _we’re invisible, don’t you know that_ , he asks, “And you don’t?”

Kenny shrugs. “People know more about me from just looking than they do either you or her.”

He silently concedes the point.

It seems Kenny is expecting more, but no matter how curious, there are somethings George is simply never going to ask.

“You don’t have a very high opinion of what we do,” he notes.

For a moment, a rather dark look crosses Kenny’s face, but then, it’s gone with a wry smile. “I don’t like the idea that I could wake up one morning and find you or her or someone like Myron just gone.”

“Does this mean you aren’t truly concerned about Cuba blowing us up?”

“It’s not something I worry much about, sir. If they do, I’m just as dead as everyone else I care about is.”

He nods. “Kenny, I truly hope you understand that I’m doing much better. Of course, there are no guarantees, but you’re not going to come to class and find me gone due to my own decision in the matter.”

“Good. And I hope you understand, sir, that Lois has a vendetta against poetry, my parents are great, but they’re a lot of things I can’t talk to them about, and I’m not talking to my ten-year-old cousin about all the stuff swirling around in my head.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of Miss Yamaguchi’s disdain for poetry,” George agrees.

As much as he appreciates articulation, he rather thinks the twenty-page report on why exactly poetry is an illegitimate form of proper artistic expression was a bit much.

“Well,” Kenny says with clear amusement, “she’s very cynical, in general. I can talk to her, it’s just usually not as pleasant as when I talk to you. I think it’s because you actually like me, sir, and she just- sort of keeps me around because Grandma Mitsuye is fond of me.”

“And what about Mrs Yamaguchi?”

“Clyde, sir. Grandma Mitsuye’s last name is Clyde. She’s Lois’s maternal grandmother, and she married an American when she was sixteen. And it’s the same with Lois. I don’t think she’s afraid of anything. Well, besides something happening to Lois.”

“I suppose you find that a perfectly logical fear.”

Kenny nods.

George had been wondering how it was Kenny’s reaction to everything involving the gun had been so calm. Of course, for all he knew, Kenny had reacted badly while George himself was unconscious, but it appeared Kenny’s plan had solely consisted of keeping the gun away from him while staying in the house in case needed.

In the morning, George had woken back up to find Kenny sitting in the room on a kitchen chair and reading George’s copy of Rimbaud’s works.

He’d tried to explain, and Kenny had politely asked if they could get breakfast.

The answer doesn’t lessen his guilt. For all Lois has apparently done and despite the fact Kenny acknowledges Lois could hide suicidal leanings from him, there’s no evidence Lois has ever put Kenny in such a terrible position.

Worrying whether one’s friend is going to say something provocative (Charley has given him enough experience for several lifetimes, he’s sure) is nowhere near having to contend with another person potentially dying.

“You don’t need to worry about me, sir,” Kenny suddenly says. “You don’t teach anymore classes I can take. Once I graduate, I have big plans. But until then, I just like talking to you and making sure you’ll hopefully still be around after I’m gone.”

Softly, George says, “Good. I’m glad.”

“I should go in case June comes over early, but same time after class next week, sir?”

“Same time,” George agrees.


End file.
